might come to her. But the family would not leave their chickens, and
cows, and corn. So the old woman, who was tired, sank down by the
wayside and wept. This sorrow was no sorrow to the sorrow of the war. I
left the old woman, the sentry, and the family, and went into a fine
breakfast.

At this time there was much talk about spies. Our wires were often cut
mysteriously. A sergeant had been set upon in a lane. The enemy were
finding our guns with uncanny accuracy. All our movements seemed to be
anticipated by the enemy. Taking for granted the extraordinary
efficiency of the German Intelligence Corps, we were particularly
nervous about spies when the Division was worn out, when things were not
going well.

At the Estaminet de l'Epinette I heard a certain story, and hearing it
set about to make a fool of myself. This is the story--I have never
heard it substantiated, and give it as an illustration and not as fact.

There was once an artillery brigade billeted in a house two miles or so
behind the lines. All the inhabitants of the house had fled, for the
village had been heavily bombarded. Only a girl had had the courage to
remain and do hostess to the English. She was so fresh and so charming,
so clever in her cookery, and so modest in her demeanour that all the
men of the brigade headquarters fell madly in love with her. They even
quarrelled. Now this brigade was suffering much from espionage. The guns
could not be moved without the Germans knowing their new position. No
transport or ammunition limbers were safe from the enemy's guns. The
brigade grew mightily indignant. The girl was told by her numerous
sweethearts what was the matter. She was angry and sympathetic, and
swore that through her the spy should be discovered. She swore the
truth.

One night a certain lewd fellow of the baser sort pursued the girl with
importunate pleadings. She confessed that she liked him, but not in that
way. He left her and stood sullenly by the door. The girl took a pail
and went down into the cellar to fetch up a little coal, telling the man
with gentle mockery not to be so foolish. This angered him, and in a
minute he had rushed after her into the cellar, snorting with
disappointed passion. Of course he slipped on the stairs and fell with a
crash. The girl screamed. The fellow, his knee bruised, tried to feel
his way to the bottom of the stairs and touched a wire. Quickly running
his hand along the wire he came to a telephone. The